


Un Très Bon Voyage

by empathalitis, timeandteacups



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Biting, Exhibitionism, Explicit Sexual Content, Hand Jobs, Kissing, M/M, RudeTrip, Semi-Public Sex, Trains, Travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-03
Updated: 2016-10-03
Packaged: 2018-08-19 07:13:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8195516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/empathalitis/pseuds/empathalitis, https://archiveofourown.org/users/timeandteacups/pseuds/timeandteacups
Summary: Settling into their sumptuous new identities, Hannibal and Will host an unforgettable dinner party on a luxury rail cruise. Once the music has stopped and most of the guests have returned to their cabins, Hannibal decides to treat the remaining party-goers to some more intimate entertainment for the evening – in which he and his husband are the main attraction.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the RudeTrip event by [hannibalcreative](http://hannibalcreative.tumblr.com/)!

The views are breathtaking: lush green valleys, rolling hills, broad steppes and flowing rivers. Shimmering freshwater lakes, towering snow capped mountains that seem to ascend into the heavens. The countryside boasts mile after mile of abundant orchards, vineyards, and colorful flora. 

It's a soirée fit for a king – or rather, a count. There is little distinction when Hannibal Lecter – now known as French aristocrat _Vincent Sauvage_ – is the host. He's comfortable in his newly procured identity, where he can continue to indulge in excellence and opulence without garnering unwanted attention. Will, posing as his loving husband Nathan, takes surprisingly well to the role. It's not much of an adjustment. This time, Hannibal makes note to take every very _public_ advantage of their married status. It feels less like a couple they're impersonating and more like extensions of themselves. 

Hannibal is determined to reestablish himself as the noble he once was, securing a place amidst European high society via the best way he knows how. Onboard the finest luxury railway money can buy, he treats all one-hundred thirty-two guests to an all-inclusive rail cruise, guaranteed to make him the subject of much discussion within the social circles of the elite. 

Some noteworthy names amidst the impressive guest list: poet Nicholas Charron, Malcolm Frost, composer, Ruben Webb, ballet choreographer, Lord Clyde Caden Carlisle, writer Oscar Chamberlain, Edmond Miller, a five-star chef, and French business magnate Alphonse Delacroix. 

The train rounds a picturesque bend, making its way around the majestic Lake Baikal, celebrated as the world's deepest. They enjoy hot smoked omul, an indigenous whitefish, some salted and dried as a delicacy. The rest is served in tasty _stroganina_ , with salt, onion, and black pepper powder. They pair it with vodka. 

Traveling in style and comfort through the vastness of the Russian wilderness, they speed across ever-changing terrain and into Asia, passing beautiful landmarks, marveling at the scenery and stopping at lively cities along the way. It's the journey of a lifetime on a privately chartered hotel-on-wheels, and it could not be more elegant.

Onboard bartenders mix drinks for the evening in the bar car, and the lounge remains open at all times for guests to meet and mingle. A single carriage is dedicated entirely to smoking, a lavishly decorated cigar room filled with rich sweet and smoky scents. There are two railcar restaurants, and each passenger has their own spacious cabin in which to retire. 

Naturally, Hannibal reserves the most expensive suite for Will and himself. They confine themselves here nightly and for many of the days, rolling around in the plush king size bed, dining quietly on gourmet meals and taking their romantic candlelit dinners privately. They thoroughly enjoy the luxuries of their en-suite bathroom, equipped with underfloor heating and a jacuzzi bath. The shower cubicle is a bit small for two people, but they make the most of the shared space.

The train continues its journey beyond the famed Flaming Mountains of Xinjiang, China, desert scenery rolling by beyond the clear picture windows. The sun goes down, setting the sandstone hills ablaze in brilliant scarlets, yellows and oranges. Peaks of bedrock painted a shocking crimson. Hannibal thinks of the Uyghur legend – the spilled blood of the dragon of the Tian Shan Mountain range – and smiles. They too have spilled the blood of dragons, and many other beasts since then. The fond memories have a home within the still-expanding palace of his mind, where he holds the image of Will, skin stained with red, standing triumphantly above those they've slain. 

It's strange to see him as he is now, docile and restrained, helping to entertain their numerous guests. The domesticity of it however fills him with warmth – Will is his pride and joy, no matter the circumstance. 

In the dining and kitchen cars, the Executive Chef ensures that Hannibal’s naturally elaborate dinner menu be carried out without a hitch or deviation. All ingredients are provided by their wealthy proprietor, and they turn each dish into a masterful work of art. 

The full moon peaks above the steep sand dunes, and only then does the party commence in full. 

A black tie affair, Hannibal and Will have dressed themselves handsomely in perfectly tailored suits. 

Butlers dot the interior, offering bountiful fruit and delectable hors d'oeuvres of caviar, terrines, pâtés, sweetbreads, fine meats and cheeses. In between courses they serve chilled cocktails, shots, vintage wines, flavored vodkas and dessert liqueurs. A pianist sits at a magnificent grand piano where he plays alongside their resident harpist. Theirs is a romantic duet, the gentle piano and harp tunes carrying over from the adjoining rail car and setting the mood for a relaxed, intimate evening. The atmosphere is decidedly classy. 

It's all a part of the ambiance.

Will feels like the protagonist of a Brontë novel – he knows that this is little more than an act, and they are dressed aptly for their theatrical roles. The train car is their stage, and their costumes hide the brutal truth of them. In reality he is a wolf, fangs glistening silver as he salivates, and he wonders if to Hannibal, everyone else is but a flock of incessantly bleating sheep. He licks his chops hungrily, gaze shifting to rove over the party-goers. 

There's a group of businessmen at a small table downing shots, laughter bellowing. Party guests mingle, women in expensive gowns and accessories shimmering like diamonds in the light.

Only the slightest bit overwhelmed, Will doesn't wander far from Hannibal, who busies himself exchanging pleasantries with the throngs of guests eager to introduce themselves. 

Long, tapered fingers trace the rim of a wineglass, and a lone man takes a sip, gaze fixed deliberately on the evening's hosts. 

He's used to seeing trophy wives and perfect husbands, model partners of married couples, but nothing like these two. The energy they give off is downright electric – he imagines he can hear the crackle of static beyond the low, hushed chatter. 

He snags an hors d'oeuvre from a passing tray and eats it in one bite. Trades his empty wineglass for some bubbly, sparkling champagne. 

There's a line leading to Vincent and his husband, who appears increasingly distracted and dazed. The man wonders if he's uncomfortable around crowds, or if it's simply the attention that gets under his skin. Ruffles his feathers. Vincent politely bids the congregation of starstruck guests farewell, taking a seat beside his husband as they nurse their drinks. The blue-blooded stranger watches and waits, the epitome of patience.

As the party begins to die down, the hustle and bustle of the evening gives way to a quiet murmur. Empty bottles, fine china and crystal glasses clink together gently as they're gathered. The lights go down, and the majority of the guests finally retire to their cabins. The carriage is all but empty, just a few stragglers lounging around, still sipping drinks and chatting amongst themselves.

The dinner party was a success, as usual, and now Hannibal and Will are left almost completely alone. There's still a man sitting close to them, sipping his drink and looking out the window. In the dim light, Hannibal is sure the man can't see him running his hand up and down Will's thigh, and he wonders how much he can touch Will right here, without being noticed by any of the guests that are still present. 

He turns away from the man to face Will, leans in to kiss his lips softly. His hand moves up a bit more, almost reaching Will's groin, just to tease. Will has been drinking, and Hannibal loves how alcohol lowers his inhibitions every time. He moves to speak closer to Will's ear, letting his lips brush against his cheek. 

“I could touch you now…” he says in a whisper, glancing at the two other men who still haven't left the party, sitting together and talking. “Do you think they'd notice?” Hannibal’s breath is hot against Will's skin, fingers tracing patterns across his inner thigh. They had planned to sate their carnal appetites, but only after everyone else left. Now the temptation seems to get the better of him, and he’s relentless in his teasing. “What if I decided I wanted you right here?”

Will's gaze darkens at the suggestion, breath hitching just enough for Hannibal to hear. The growing flush of his skin is a product of fine wines and now Hannibal's words, and he still basks in the elegance, enjoying what he's come to accept as Hannibal's preferred lifestyle. 

"I think our guests would have the impression you were quite the licentious host," Will drawls, though he can't hide the shudder that passes through him. It's undeniably appealing in a base, lust-filled way. His heartbeat picks up – he knows that once the idea's been planted, Hannibal won't be able to resist. The thought is helplessly thrilling.

"But you can do whatever you'd like. You're _Vincent Sauvage_ ”—Will suppresses a chuckle at this—”and it's _your_ party. They won't try to stop you." He leans in closer, eyes hooded, though his voice trembles. "Maybe I won't either."

Will sees mischief flicker in Hannibal’s eyes. 

“I never expected you to stop me,” he says, pressing a kiss to Will's neck, right below his ear. “I'd let them watch you… Wouldn't it be beautiful?” Hannibal surveys their surroundings with nonchalance, looking around just to see if they've caught anyone's attention. For now, it seems no one has noticed. 

Casually, he eyes the guests that remain, running his fingers all the way up to Will's cock, ghosting softly along the shape of him through his pants. 

It’s at this precise moment that the stranger sitting nearby takes the opportunity, turning his head to meet Hannibal's gaze. Having watched them from the corner of his eye, he seems to see it as an invitation for conversation – smiles and finishes his flute of champagne. 

Hannibal keeps his hand right where it is. 

"Monsieur Sauvage," the man begins, and Will turns his attention to their lingering guest. He wears a stark white suit, young and cleft-chinned, blond hair smoothed back in a pompadour. His eyes are green and intelligent looking. 

Will dislikes him instantly. 

"I introduced myself earlier—Gabriel Delacroix, I'm not sure if you remember. My father is Alphonse Delacroix. He was ill and I thought to attend in his stead." 

Will quirks an eyebrow, but Hannibal seems to be listening somewhat intently. Will noses affectionately underneath his jaw, uninvited party-goers be damned. But maybe...

"This has been a magnificent party, Monsieur," Gabriel continues, and Will's eyes narrow at his tone. A little _too_ friendly. "I've been dying to congratulate you since it started. I hope to be on your guest list in the future."

“That is a huge compliment,” Hannibal says with a smile, not needing to look at Will to know how it affects him. He can sense Will's jealousy, the way he wants Hannibal to pay attention to him and him alone. Hannibal moves his hand discreetly again, feeling along the line of Will's cock and pressing his thumb against the head. He feels it growing harder against his fingers.

“Thank you,” Hannibal continues, still focused on Gabriel. It's rude of their guest to interrupt him and Will like this, but Hannibal is nothing if not polite. He offers Gabriel another friendly smile. “It would be delightful to have you at my next dinner party.” He thinks he’d enjoy having Gabriel for dinner anytime, _not exactly as a guest_. “Did you enjoy the food?”

Will huffs out a heated breath against Hannibal's skin, a combination of frustration and reluctant arousal. He's losing his patience with the guest's small talk and Hannibal’s curious encouragement. 

"Quite the understatement. Everything was exquisite," Gabriel replies. His voice is high and reedy. A rich, spoiled little daddy’s boy, born into wealth. Perhaps that explains his interest in Hannibal. 

"I don't think I've ever had such incredible canapés. The _mousse au foie gras_? Delicious. I have a brilliant _chef garde manger_ on my estate—I must insist on your recipe for him to replicate." 

Will's jaw clenches. He doesn't spare Gabriel so much as a glance as he climbs into Hannibal's lap and settles astride him. Leisurely he dives in, sucking kisses shamelessly against the hollow of his lover's throat. He's pleased to feel the rigid heat of Hannibal underneath him, cock forming an impressive tent in between his legs – Will lets his fingers brush over the crotch of his expensive bespoke trousers until Hannibal grips him hard around the waist. 

Eyes fluttering closed for a moment, Hannibal groans with Will's touch. He recomposes himself in a fraction of a second, looking to Gabriel again as if nothing has changed. He knows it will only serve to inflame Will’s jealousy.

“Of course,” Hannibal tells him, hands sliding down to Will's backside, gripping his flesh tightly. “It'll be my pleasure to give you the recipe.” He offers Gabriel a smile while trying to suppress a moan as Will's grip on his cock grows tighter. Gabriel's eyes are fixed on Will now, and it seems like he's lost his words. 

“But you must excuse me, please,” Hannibal says, “it appears that my husband needs me…” He sees Gabriel nod almost imperceptibly in his peripheral vision, and focuses his attention on Will. 

“What a naughty boy you are, _Nathan_ ,” Hannibal says out loud, his hands sliding to Will's thighs. He presses hot open mouthed kisses against his neck, still feeling Gabriel's gaze on them. Not even trying to pretend he isn't watching. Does Gabriel want a show? Will certainly wants to give him one. Hannibal smirks against Will's skin. His hands move up to Will's groin again, deliberately cupping his cock, dropping the pretense of trying to be discreet.

“Do you want them to see you?” he asks, lowering his voice for only Will to hear, lips brushing against his ear. “Does it arouse you, _Will_? If you know they have their eyes fixed on you?” His fingers work quickly on the button and fly of Will's pants. 

"I want them to see _us_ ," Will whispers back, rolling his hips in a slow, decadent grind. He nips playfully at Hannibal's ear in reply, reveling in the knowledge that he's every bit as hard as he is – maybe more. It makes Will feel dizzy, how much this seems to arouse him already. How much it arouses them both.

"I want them to see what we do. How our bodies move together. I want everyone to know I'm yours and you're mine."

Will can hear Gabriel let out a breath, finally setting his empty glass down on the table. He wonders what kind of expression he's wearing: if he's unsettled or helplessly intrigued. The fact he’s still around seems to suggest the latter. 

"You two have quite the chemistry," Gabriel purrs. "By all means, don't let me interrupt." 

Will doesn't. He kisses Hannibal hard, tongue slipping into his mouth to trace sensually across the upper ridge of his teeth, blunt incisors and then the sharp points of his canines. Will pulls back just enough to breathe against his mouth, "I think he wants you to bite me." 

“Does he?” Hannibal asks, shifting to mouth at Will’s throat. “Or do _you_?” He bites down hard, sinking his teeth in Will’s neck and tearing a low whimper from him, leaving dark, purpling imprints behind. Hannibal’s eyes scan the room. The two men earlier absorbed in each other were now watching them too. _Good_. He wishes more people had stayed to see him taking Will apart with his hands and mouth.

“There are three people watching us now,” Hannibal says, not even bothering to keep his voice low. He finally slides his hand into Will’s underwear, tugging them down just enough to pull his cock out, and wraps his hand around it, his thumb circling around the head. Will is already leaking for him. He licks and sucks on the bite mark he left, and smiles when Will moans softly. 

“Do you think they want to touch you too? Because they can’t… You’re _mine_.” He buries his teeth in Will’s neck again, right below the first bite mark, and as he soothes the ache with his soft tongue he can detect the faint taste of Will’s blood.

Will doesn't try to hold back the sounds he makes, or stifle the eager bucking of his hips. He lets the knowledge that they're being watched flow through him and settle somewhere hidden, the resting place of all his carnal lusts and desires. He feels himself throb in Hannibal's grip. 

"Show them I'm yours," Will urges, and it sounds more like a desperate plea, the words laced with the kind of naked sincerity that leaves one vulnerable. Far from the calm, steady command he'd hoped to give instead, but he still feels the curl of lips against his throat.

He presses himself closer, wants to thrust wantonly into Hannibal's fist, for everyone to see what he does to him. This isn't something they have to fake. There's no pretending when it comes to the pleasure they bring each other, laying waste effortlessly, staking their claims with their bodies. Will could come like this, but he wants Hannibal inside him. Wants to be claimed in a way he's only fantasized about. 

Gabriel is blissfully silent, the other men like ghosts, watching. Their hooded eyes are glazed over with alcohol and longing, full, rapt attention on them, waiting for what comes next. 

Hannibal is ready to show them more. Will's reaction encourages him to go further, the desperation and desire in his voice guiding his every move. So Hannibal lets go of his cock and pulls Will's pants down, just enough to expose his hole. His fingertips brush against the skin between Will's cheeks, and Hannibal feels him shuddering atop his lap.

“I'll push my fingers into you,” Hannibal says, his voice low. Gabriel is likely still able to hear him, and Hannibal knows the possibility arouses Will even more. “So they can see how beautiful you are when I'm inside you.”

Hannibal reaches for the packet of lubricant he’d stashed in his pocket – tears it open and squeezes some of the lube out onto his fingers, trying to warm it up just enough so it won't feel too cold against Will's skin. He lowers his hand again and spreads the lube over Will's hole with a light pressure, his mouth finding Will's throat again, nipping at it softly now as his breath comes heavier than before. 

Will has come a long way in his enjoyment of Hannibal's attentions, having evolved from timid and meek to a brazen creature craving open debauchery. To be possessed. He's lost his ability to speak, awash with the building anticipation. 

"When it comes to passion, it's a privilege to be a fly on the wall, isn't it gentleman?" comes Gabriel's unmistakeable voice, projected loudly and hoarse with what Will knows to be arousal. His eyes stay fixed on the spectacle, but it's clear the words are for his fellow audience. "I wasn't expecting an after-party show, but I'm delighted to aid in the fantasy. Your husband is quite hungry for you, _Monsieur_." 

Will moans again as Hannibal teases around his hole, passes leisurely over the twitching muscle with the easy glide of lubrication. Outside the panoramic window, the view of the landscape is dark – Will can see his own reflection in the glass, lips-parted, flushed and shifting in Hannibal's lap. He's practically drooling to have these men watch Hannibal reduce him to nothing but a pliant, pleasured mess. 

"To inspire such appetite is a gift," Gabriel says, and Will’s breath catches raggedly, feeling the pressure of Hannibal’s finger increasing. "Do continue." 

Gabriel may have just awarded himself a culinary upgrade. 

“Beautiful, isn't he?” Hannibal says proudly, sliding his finger all the way into Will's body, rubbing his prostate just briefly. Will's moan sounds like both pleasure and surprise and Hannibal smiles to himself. “So eager… Just one finger isn’t enough for him.” 

Hannibal pulls his finger out and pushes two into Will now, slowly but firmly, the lube and the position Will is in making it easier. He buries his fingers deep inside, slowly moving them in and out, and finally wraps his free hand around Will's cock again, grip slick with lubrication.

“Is this enough, darling?” Hannibal asks Will, lips close to his ear. “Do you want more?” He bites Will's earlobe softly and lowers his voice. “Maybe what you need is my cock. Tell me what you want.”

Will makes a choked noise and buries his face in Hannibal's neck, panting breaths hot and shallow. He barely registers the bite of his nails into his own palm through the crisp, bunched up fabric of Hannibal's shirt. His hole flutters around the fingers inside him as if in answer. 

Gabriel watches with lewd interest, elegantly arching an eyebrow. " _Aw_. Is he shy now?" he coos, and Will straightens just to find Hannibal's mouth. 

He feels afflicted, like there's a fever wreaking havoc on him, some dark disease running rampant through his veins. His blood burns just beneath the prickle of his skin, and to be on display like this nearly makes him short-circuit. 

Hannibal finger-fucks him at a measured, deliberate tempo, long and drawn out so that Will feels every inch, crook and curl of the digits pushing into him. He trembles every time they do, hisses as they withdraw just to surge back inside. Will begins to push back against the easy movements, push forward into the tight grip of Hannibal's hand, breathing labored and uneven as his pleasure climbs. 

"Yes," Will gasps, and he doesn't care how he must look, begging for Hannibal's cock. The hand that had steadied him slides down Hannibal's shoulder to his chest, then his stomach, and lower until he's fumbling with the zipper of his slacks. It's easy to pull down, protruding with the swell of Hannibal's cock, nearly bursting at the seams. What Will really wants is for Hannibal to fuck him fast, hard, make him cry out in front of their three-man audience. 

" _God_ , I want you to fuck me. I want them to see it. To witness." He's careful not to let Hannibal's name slip, not while it's audible to their guests. 

Hannibal grabs Will's hand and places it back on his shoulder. His own cock is painfully hard and leaking, still trapped in his underwear, but he has other plans for Will right now. He doesn't want it to be over so fast. 

“Not yet, _darling boy_ ,” Hannibal says, their faces so close they're breathing into each other. “You'll have it… Later,” Hannibal assures him, returning his free hand to Will's cock, his thumb gently circling the head, smearing precome around it. “First I want you to come around my fingers.”

With that, Hannibal pulls his fingers out again just to force three inside this time, slow enough not to hurt Will, but the stretch is definitely enough to make him feel the burn of it. Will gasps and writhes at the intrusion, and Hannibal marvels at the response. He is _beautiful_. And so _tight_. Hannibal could never get tired of touching him like this. 

“Look at you, so desperate for my cock,” he says, rubbing the pads of his fingers against Will's prostate. “After you come I'll let you have it. I'll make you ride me until you get hard again, and then I'll make you come a second time.” Hannibal starts thrusting his fingers in and out again in a steady but slow pace. It wouldn't take long for Will to feel impatient and start pushing down against him again. 

“They're watching you, Will,” Hannibal whispers in Will's ear, so Gabriel can't hear it. “What if they want you too?” Hannibal keeps his voice low enough for only Will to hear. “Should I let them have you? Do you want their cocks?” He's curious how he'll answer. 

Will whimpers. The idea has a thick bead of precome welling at the tip of his cock. He wonders if it's a trick question. 

"N-No, _no_ ," he huffs out, ears reddening. It's a half-lie. He knows he'd derive pleasure from being used if only Hannibal willed it – if he watched and then had him last, finished inside him. 

The thought is tantalizing, delicious in how taboo it is. To be treated like an object, a piece of property to be borrowed, lent, passed around at Hannibal's discretion. If Hannibal _let_ them fuck him. If he _allowed_ it. 

Will squeezes his eyes shut and takes a few centering breaths, as deep as he can manage. 

"I’d still want you,” Will says. “I'd still be yours."  
A full-truth. 

The answer seems to satisfy Hannibal. He hums against Will’s skin, tongue darting out to lap up the salty drop of sweat running down his neck. Hannibal is ruthless, intent on bringing him to orgasm with his skillful fingers – he works them faster, a little harder than before, just the way he knows Will likes. Continues thumbing the sensitive head of his cock, stroking unhurriedly. It's not enough. 

Will begins to roll his hips in time, matching each inward slide, the steady pumping motion driving him closer to the edge. The wet sounds of Hannibal pleasuring him only grow louder, the slick and dirty squelch of those fingers plunging in and out of his hole echoing through the rail car. Will's face is so hot it hurts. He swears he hears Gabriel swallow hard and shift in his seat. 

“I still think you want it,” Hannibal insists, knowing that it arouses Will even though he denies it. Will can't hide from him. They can't hide from each other. “You want me to use you for my pleasure. And theirs, too. Come on, darling. Let them see how beautiful you are when you come around my fingers.”

He watches as Will moves on top of him, his moans making it even harder for him to keep his self control. Hannibal glances at Gabriel and sees him touching his cock slowly through his pants, trying to be discreet. He's pleased by this development. Hannibal turns his attention back to Will again, pressing kisses to his neck. 

“I should make you ride me, right here,” Hannibal says, sucking another bruise on Will's neck. “I'd come inside you, and then I'd let them have you.” He keeps his voice low, knowing the effect it has on Will, combined with his words. Hannibal decides to push him a little more. “After all three of them are done with you, I'd be ready to _fuck_ you again.” 

Will’s lids crack open, vision hazy, the whites of his eyes flickering as they threaten to roll back into his skull. He makes a muffled sound into Hannibal's shoulder, panting erratically, and the words swim around in circles inside his head. Circulating. It brings him so close he has to bite down on his own knuckles to keep from tipping over. He can hear Gabriel's breathing too, the heavy silence of the other men as they watch him come apart. 

Hannibal covers the base of his throat in marks that will darken, bruises he'll wear proudly amongst their guests that are sure to garner gasps and startled looks. The steady motion of the train powering across the metal rails almost seems to lull Will into a near hypnosis, focused on nothing but the rhythm of Hannibal's fingers, how the ache mixes with the pleasure of the stimulation. 

He thinks of how much better it'll feel to have Hannibal's cock inside him, imagines being watched by these men – by _Gabriel_ – as he comes around him. As Hannibal buries himself to the hilt to spill deep inside his body, marking Will as _his_. 

Will arches, hissing through bared teeth. He stiffens and shudders hard, squeezing around Hannibal's fingers as he pulses hot and sticky all over his hand.

Hannibal leans in, kisses the corner of Will's mouth and moves slowly towards his ear. “You're beautiful,” he whispers, and only Will can hear it. Carefully, he pulls his fingers out, caressing around Will's hole a little just to make him shudder with oversensitivity. He can't wait to bury his cock inside him and feel Will clenching around him, naked and writhing on his lap. 

He lets go of Will's cock, lifting his hand to let Will and Gabriel see. His skin is covered with Will's come, and all Hannibal can think is that he wants to make Will come again. Next to him, Gabriel is still touching himself through his pants, hand moving steadily along his lap as he watches Will and Hannibal. 

“Lick it all off,” he tells Will, his other hand resting possessively on the small of his back. “Taste yourself.”

Will grabs his wrist and pulls Hannibal's hand in close, and it never crosses his mind to say no. Hannibal has always been obsessed with his taste, has always wanted him to enjoy it just as much as he does. Will laps at Hannibal's hand, thoroughly licking it clean, his eyes glinting with impish delight and fixed on Hannibal's the whole time. 

As he swallows the last drop of his own come, Hannibal leans in and kisses him hungrily, sucking on his tongue and bottom lip, tasting Will there. His cock twitches inside his pants, leaking profusely, and Hannibal can't wait any longer. 

“I need to be inside you,” he speaks against Will's lips, voice thick with arousal, loud enough for their guests to hear. His hands grab Will's hips through his shirt, and Will shudders against him.

Will kisses him again, slower now, allowing Hannibal to taste him a bit longer. Hannibal squeezes his hips, fingers burying into his skin as he captures Will's bottom lip between his teeth and pulls. Tonight, three passengers were going to get more than they bargained for. 

“Take your pants off.”

**Author's Note:**

> We are planning to write a second chapter but it may take some time due to other WIPs and projects. Please subscribe if you want to read more!


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